Head to Head
by skag trendy
Summary: Set season 6. An angel pokes his nose in someone else's business…


**Head to Head**

**Set season 6. An angel pokes his nose in someone else's business…**

**Just a short Supernatural cross-over tag to Cockneys versus Zombies…**

**For a bit of fun.**

**Warnings: Mainly, my terrible sense of humour, and some VERY naughty language, including the 'C' word. **

**A tribute to traditional Cockney slang and attitude (both, sadly, dying out these days) Gory, blood fest, senior citizens getting it on… You have been warned!**

**You will need to see this film, and if you haven't then go rent/buy it right now 'cos you'll laugh your bloody head off.**

**Oh, and you'll love the song lyrics. Google and have a listen. They're almost as funny as the film itself…**

* * *

"_They've got all the numbers,_

_But we've got all the guns,_

_If we don't make it out of here,_

_At least we've had some fun,_

_London's been through worse than this,_

_Ain't got time to read the list,_

_Take more than the walking dead to make a Cockney run... _

_We're goin' head to head,_

_With the undead…"_

* * *

**London, Thames, post-Zombie apocalypse…**

"Oy! Zombies!" Granddad yelled out across the water. He cocked his automatic rifle with fury and no small sense of pride. "Get the fuck out of my East End!"

And then he opened fire.

One by one, the zombies fell. Undead bodies, now fully dead, lay strewn around the docks, some still twitching in their last throes of death.

When the last round had been spent, its shell plinking to the boat deck, a calm voice spoke up.

"Uh, hello?"

Granddad turned and raised a cynical eyebrow at the young American with the shaggy hair. His companion, though a few inches shorter, was still fairly tall, and it escaped no one's notice that both blokes were… well… _a bit of alright_.

"You took your fucking time didn't cha?" Granddad stared at the two new comers, standing wet and dripping on his newly 'acquired' boat. "I spoke to Bobby Singer a few hours ago from Bow Bells. Fucker said you'd be here in time for the show down, and here you are, right at the fucking end? Give me fucking strength!"

"Er, Granddad?" said Terry, shifting nervously from foot to foot. "Who the fuck are they?"

"Stop fucking calling me Granddad!" Granddad snapped immediately, now more a reflex than anything else. "Hunters, apparently," though he virtually spat the word in disgust. "S'posed to be _hexperienced_ wiv these things. Fuck lot of fucking good that does us when they show up _hours fucking late!_"

The shorter one of the strangers stepped cautiously closer, eyeing all the weapons, but also managed to spare time for an admiring glance at Katie, who scowled back. The stranger appeared unnerved by her apparent dislike, if not a little hurt.

The taller, shaggy-haired one rolled his eyes but remained silent.

"Uh, I'm Dean, this is my brother Sam," said Dean, with a disarming smile, the only way a person _could, _in fact, smile in the face of several heavily armed and pissed off Cockneys, even one in a wheelchair. "Sorry about the delay, guys. Angel delivery isn't what it used to be." He gestured to his sodden clothes. They were somewhat worse for wear, to be expected after an _un_expected swim in the Thames River. Castiel was going to have it not so politely explained to him that being dropped off didn't necessarily mean being just dropped _anywhere!_

Granddad lowered his weapon.

"Got that fucking right!" He glanced all around. "Where _is_ that bastard, Castiel, anyway? He was s'posed to be here _wiv_ ya!"

Dean frowned and looked confused. "You know Castiel?"

Granddad snorted, derisively. "'_Course _I fucking do! We fought side by side against Jerry back in the day." He glared at the two hunters. "So where the fuck is he? Little cunt owes me a pony!"

Dean looked even more confused.

"They bet on livestock over here?" he whispered to Sam out the corner of his mouth.

"Cockney slang for twenty five quid," Sam replied, equally sotto voce.

Dean turned his head and stared at him. "What the fuck is a 'quid'?"

"He, uh, he's still tracking down Balthazar," Sam replied out loud, tentatively speaking up, and incidentally ignoring his brother.

"Who the fuck is Bal…zar?" asked Granddad, a little uncertain with the pronunciation.

"Balthazar," Sam enunciated, careful not to sound patronising. "He's the angel responsible for all this…"

"Seriously?" Katie spoke up, scowl working deeper. "An angel did it? What the fuck for?"

Sam shifted from foot to foot, nervous of her accusing stare, and muttered something, his face flushing red with embarrassment.

Everyone leaned in and asked "Eh?"

But Katie sure heard what he said, and her eyes narrowed with anger.

Long, dark hair whipping round her face, she stalked over and prodded Sam in the chest.

"'He thought it was a laugh?' Really?" Her scowl deepened. "Are you fucking pullin' my chain? All these people… innocent men, women and children… they all ate each other like fucking happy meals 'cos a fucking angel thought it was _funny_?!"

Sam didn't quite know how to put it, so he decided honesty was the best policy.

"Yeah. He's gotta love of Zombie drama." He shrugged, helplessly. "Balthazar's a prick. Always has been, always will be."

Katie stared at him a moment longer. Then a glimmer of a smile emerged.

"I like you," she said simply, before turning her back and firing on a zombie climbing up the netting on the side of the boat. "Bloody thing must've walked under water!"

Dean looked affronted. "Sam," he said, pointedly. "You c-blocked me again, dude! We've talked about this!"

Sam's grin was polite, but came with an edge of smut. "Can't help it if the Cockney babes dig me."

"They're gonna be diggin' your fucking grave in a minute, son, if you don't wise the fuck up and pay attention!" Granddad held his rifle to his shoulder once again, and fired on a consortium of undead crawling over the stern, the boat tipping slightly under their weight.

There were too many, all slithering over the railings, mouths gaping, blood thirsty, animal intent gleaming in their beady, dead eyes.

The Winchesters backed away and tried to shield their charges from the onslaught.

But the Cockneys weren't about to turn and run. They were nobody's victims.

Granddad stole a deep, tongue twisting kiss from Peggy, the sultry senior blonde beauty manning the helm, grabbed up Katie's Samurai sword and roared his own tried and tested battle cry:

"Let's _fuckin' 'ave itaaah_!"

He leapt at the foe, sword swinging high, and lobbed off a few heads before the Winchesters recovered from their shock, and joined in.

In the blink of an eye, Castiel showed up on top of the cabin with a bedraggled and petulant Balthazar in his grip, clutched by the scruff of his neck.

Everyone on deck ceased their activities, including the Zombies, Dean noted with some surprise.

But not as surprised as the Londoners…

"Bugger!"

"Bollocks!"

"Wanker!"

"Cock!"

"Oh… Fuck meeee…!" someone actually fell overboard.

Castiel, eyes narrowed, merely muttered "Fix this, _now!"_

Balthazar shrugged out of his hold and straightened his designer jacket.

"Al_right_!" He glared at his brother then turned his searing gaze on the other occupants of the boat. He suddenly smiled and waved at the Winchesters, who just looked embarrassed. "Hey boys! Nice to see you exploring a bit more of the world. There's more to this planet besides America, you know!"

"You…" Dean growled.

"Easy, Tiger!" muttered Sam. Sensing his brother's fury, he grabbed Dean's arm, halting his threatening move towards the chastised angel.

"That sonofabitch…" Dean began, but Sam shushed him. Actually _shushed_ him!

"Let Castiel handle this," Sam told him, and glanced around at Zombies and Cockney's alike. "This isn't our battle, dude, and we got enough to deal with. Ok?"

"OK?" He asked again when no answer was forthcoming.

Dean stared at him in disbelief. "You're serious!"

Sam sighed. "These guys have it covered, Dean. And Balthazar is gonna put things back the way they're supposed to be… _right?_"

That last emphasis was aimed at Balthazar, who huffed and rolled his eyes.

"Yes, yes, yes, now can I get on with it, please?"

"Not so fast!" Andy stepped forward. "Put things back, but we get to keep the cash and Granddad's old folk's home gets to stay. Right?"

"Don't call me that!" went ignored as Balthazar tutted and sighed.

"Next, you'll be wanting jam on it!"

Terry had the nerve to intervene at this point. "Now that you mention it, could you maybe make some bank vault video footage mysteriously disappear?"

Balthazar stared at him, but a rough shake from Castiel loosened him up.

He sighed again, heavily this time, and the Winchesters grinned, recognising an angel who had bet too heavily, and lost.

"I'll see what I can do…"

He added with a wry, reluctant smile. "Bloody Cockneys. Bloody Winchesters… London's been through worse than this, ya know…"

"**We're goin' head to head,**

**With the undead,**

**You can fill 'em full o'lead,**

**But they won't stay dead.**

**We're goin' head to head,**

'**Cos we really need the bread,**

**Now everybody's fled,**

'**Cos they won't stay dead.**

Lyrics courtesy of our beloved Chas 'n Dave.

The End.

Dedicated to my True Cockney Granddad, Eddie Downs, 1922 – 1991, traditionally born by the sound of the Bow Bells, author of The Wind Beneath Our Wings, and WWII hero.


End file.
